


Circle This Flame

by Shiskababy



Series: Utenastuck [1]
Category: Homestuck, Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Multi, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:07:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiskababy/pseuds/Shiskababy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the ancient days a savior fell from grace. A deal was made. Power was exchanged. After all these years, Rose Lalonde enters the game.</p><p>(A Revolutionary Girl Utena crossover.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circle This Flame

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Utenastuck discussions on tumblr. This is a Revolutionary Girl Utena inspired au. Tags and pairings will be added as the story goes on. Title is from "Matches to Paper Dolls" by Dessa.

In the most ancient days when the lands of the humans and the trolls were first united there was a troll who stood up for both. His blood was as red as the humans, he wore no sign but he did not favor the humans over his own kind even if they shunned him. His kindness was as ever-present as the sun that the humans worshipped but as gentle as the twin moons the trolls favored.

This signless one came out of the harshest deserts protected by an adult troll for he had no lusus.  He brought his voice—radiant and persuasive—and his bravery. He could calm a raging troll with hushed words. He could appear out of nowhere to take the deathblow for any innocent; the wound would not kill him even if it spilt his abnormal red blood.

No wound could kill him, nor could any disease claim him but he was not tireless: his mutant blood was finally claiming him. His troll-lusus began noticing this. She left his side to find a cure for his tiredness.

Alone and weak, the mob descended upon him. They were both troll and humans united in a single goal born of anger. He raised his voice to ask them why they would strike at his body. No one answered as he was overcome and bound.

They took him to the vast grassland in troll territory, building a great fire to hang him above. His shackles were metal and burned deep into his flesh as he dangled above the fire. Humans slung arrows into his side. The trolls who did not shy from the fire clawed at him with sharp talons. All demanded that he give them answers to why he did not protect them from the harsh ways of the world.

He blocked out the pain for three days and two nights before his mind came up with a traitorous thought: every single individual in that mob was deserving of the pain they inflicted on him. With this thought he began down a path with only one destination.

When the one without a sign began to break against the hatred of the world, his lusus-troll stole him away from his captors. Her soul was heavy for she had made a deal with the Ones that Sing to help him. She would not allow him to fall to the mob he once protected.

She took him to a secluded cave deep within the desert. The one without a sign began to heal in seclusion. His memories of the mob made anger lingered deep within his heart even as she bandaged the burns and wounds. She spoke honeyed words to keep him from asking questions. In his exhaustion, he didn’t ask. He knew that his lusus-troll would do much to protect him; that is the way of lusii.

The rage in his heart did not dissipate but it was satisfied in the seclusion. All he knew was the adult troll that served as his lusus. In that, he found peace.  When she was gone from the cave hatred seethed; when she returned and lay down by his side…his heart ached. He wanted her to stay with him only.  This he knew was a traitorous thought yet the bitterness within let it be.

He said nothing to his lusus-troll about his wish and she never asked. Soon a perigee passed, then three. When four perigees passed the signless one awoke to an empty cave. He yelled for his lusus-troll. She did not come running like she normally did. When the now-normal hatred rose from his heart fear joined it. Without her, the mob would find him. They would make him suffer without death as a possible release.

Only then did the Ones who Sing did come to him. They whispered in his ears that a deal had been struck. He could rise from the bedding his lusus made for him; he could take his strength again and lash out at the ones who formed the mob. He could regain his life.  The Singing Ones told him that payment had already been struck—all he needed to do was yell. Roar, they said. Roar with all your fury.

The signless didn’t know how the Singing Ones contacted him but he didn’t care. His anger began to boil again. He wanted—no, needed—to put his rage to words. So he yelled. He created curses in his head. Against the trolls who scorned him, against the humans who ignored his plight, against the sun for burning his brethren, against the moons for not bringing light, against his own lusus for making him think of unholy things, and finally against himself for letting himself be caught.

His voice had power, then. The thousand voices of the Singing Ones were satisfied. His hatred could not be matched by anything that happened before or would happen. They allowed him to grow tired. He slept.

He woke soon. He knew that he was the singles one but not. He was different—only the hatred born out of fear was in his heart.  His wounds did not bleed but the memory of the pain was ever present. The Singing Ones gave him strength yet they took the kindness that made the one without a sign a protector.

The signless one was stolen away leaving only the one who suffers.

The sufferer rose quickly. He looked at where he had been laying. He thought he saw the shape of a younger troll staring back up at him. When he looked again the remnants of the signless one was gone. The sufferer ran out of the cave and away from the Singing Ones who whispered there.

He looked for his lusus in the lands of the mob. It took him many perigees to find her. The sufferer fell to his knees when he found a young troll that was just barely old enough not to be called a wriggler. She responded to his lusus-troll’s name and recognized him by sight. Yet she did not have the wisdom of a lusus; for her lost wisdom she sorrowed.

 

The Singing Ones had answered the prayer of the lusus-troll to heal him but They had taken both the maturity of the lusus and the kindness of the signless one. The two were split in the middle. Their stolen halves were locked away deep in a tomb.

        Sufferer and the sorrowing one spurned the world. As long as they were together they would find a way to re-unite their two halves. They were crafty: the world soon accepted them back but even though the sweeps passed they would not forget.

The world would pay for what it had done but the world would not give up so easily.

-

 _Oh, sweetest Mother. Do you still hear me?_

Casian Leijon meandered through the stone archways that made up the inner sanctum of his greatest work. He often paused to inspect a column or an etching. The sunglasses in his breast pocket clicked against itself as he walked. Casian began to smile as he walked deeper into the darkness. Amadea would now be sitting in the nourishmentblock with her head in her hands, dark hair falling down her face. Her lusus would be sleeping. His smile widened.

The many colors of the stained glass windows were barely visible in the darkness. He ran his fingers over the raised lead.  “Mother, why did you follow me?” he asked without turning.

Her voice is quiet, low. Her words are clear in the darkness.  She must be running her hands through her hair, lightly brushing her horns in passing. “Don’t call me that.”

Ochre, mahogany, cerulean…  Casian touched each color. “Why shouldn’t I? You came here—this darkest place isn’t right for your brilliance,” he said. Her shoes click against the stone floor.

"Is it right for your courage? No brave deeds can be done in the dark,” she said as her arms wrap around his shoulders. “Amadea is asking so many questions… You shall have to go back to her soon.”

Her strong hands palmed at his chest. “Let me worry about her, mother,” he laughed. “You have enough to worry about for the moment.”

Casian felt the sudden tension in her arms. He bent his head to lightly kiss the back of her hands. They’re mottled green with bruising; even in the dim light he could see that much. “Kanaya.”

“Ampora is in worse shape. I cannot wait until the next round of the tournament, father,” she said calmly.

He kissed her hands again just to feel her pull away ever so slightly. He allowed her to move away from him. “I see he is making you more willful. Perhaps this is a good sign, yes?” he asked.

Sweetest Mother, why don’t you answer me?

Kanaya doesn’t give a response.

  
_Mother, please._

“It’s a possibility, Casian, it certainly is,” Kanaya said after a while. She turned around to leave.

Don’t you hear me?

She left him there without a word. He turned back to the windows. They stood still without any light behind them. He furrowed his brow at them. Casian rested his forehead against one. If his horns weren’t so short they’d scrape.

I promise.


End file.
